Nothing Could Be Finer Than to Be Out of Carolina
GRIZZARD, LEWIS Lewis Grizzard STAFF
Lewis Grizzard writes a column about the recent University of Georgia and South Carolina game in which the Georgia Bulldogs were defeated 23 to 10. He says he has been whipped before, but never like this. South Carolina outdressed us, outcheered us, outsang us (at one point when the rout was evident, 40,000 people began to sing, "Heeeeey, Baby, I Wanna to Know-o-o, Will You Be My Girl?") and, of course, outplayed us. COLUMBIA, S.C. - This wasn't the worst experience of my life, but it did move into the top 10.
First of all, it was 311 degrees in Williams-Brice Stadium. The only place it's ever been hotter is on Mars and one July afternoon in Macon.
My clothes were totally soaked with perspiration. Small children pointed at me and a kind woman sitting behind me put ice down my back to keep me from fainting, which I wish I had done so I could have missed the game.
I've been whipped before, but never like this. South Carolina outdressed us, outcheered us, outsang us (at one point when the rout was evident, 40,000 people began to sing, "Heeeeey, Baby, I Wanna to Know-o-o, Will You Be My Girl?") and, of course, outplayed us.
South Carolina 23, Georgia 10. It wasn't that close. It could have been 40-0.
Where's Secretary of Defense?
Remember how bad Georgia's pass defense has been? It was worse than that Saturday. Here is something I don't understand:
When the Bulldogs pass, we send out one receiver and he goes down about six yards and then cuts toward the sideline with seven defenders around him.
When the teams pass against us, they send out 14 guys and then go all over the field and stand there while the quarterback picks out who he wants to throw the ball to.
Why is that?
Many left here Saturday with malice in their hearts toward the Georgia coaching staff.
"Where is our defense?" a man wanted to know.
"It's on the sidelines in Statesboro," said another, referring, of course, to the long-departed Erk Russell, Georgia's former secretary of defense.
"And where was our great rushing attack?" was another question.
"It's simple," came an explanation. "South Carolina put nine men on the line and dared us to pass. Georgia is to passing what Moammar Gadhafi is to world peace."
Clemson Win Doesn't Help
Even Tech getting beat by Clemson didn't help.
"How can Clemson winning anything make you feel better?" a fan asked.
And now, for the worst part of it all.
How we ran out of beer I'll never know. I've been going to football games for three decades, and one thing that's never happened to me is when I got back to the truck, we were out of beer.
"I thought you were going to put some more beer in the ice chest," I said to my companion.
"I was in charge of the chicken. You were supposed to get the beer," he said.
What we did was shameful, but it had to be done. We sent our women over to a group of South Carolina fans to beg. They came back with a six-pack.
Somewhere eastbound out on Interstate 20 as we drove home - heads down, backs hurting - a fellow in the back seat put it all into perspective:
"Where was Gilbert," he asked, "when we needed him?"
Copyright 1988 The Atlanta Journal and The Atlanta Constitution
GRIZZARD, LEWIS Lewis Grizzard STAFF
Lewis Grizzard writes a column about the recent University of Georgia and South Carolina game in which the Georgia Bulldogs were defeated 23 to 10. He says he has been whipped before, but never like this. South Carolina outdressed us, outcheered us, outsang us (at one point when the rout was evident, 40,000 people began to sing, "Heeeeey, Baby, I Wanna to Know-o-o, Will You Be My Girl?") and, of course, outplayed us. COLUMBIA, S.C. - This wasn't the worst experience of my life, but it did move into the top 10.
First of all, it was 311 degrees in Williams-Brice Stadium. The only place it's ever been hotter is on Mars and one July afternoon in Macon.
My clothes were totally soaked with perspiration. Small children pointed at me and a kind woman sitting behind me put ice down my back to keep me from fainting, which I wish I had done so I could have missed the game.
I've been whipped before, but never like this. South Carolina outdressed us, outcheered us, outsang us (at one point when the rout was evident, 40,000 people began to sing, "Heeeeey, Baby, I Wanna to Know-o-o, Will You Be My Girl?") and, of course, outplayed us.
South Carolina 23, Georgia 10. It wasn't that close. It could have been 40-0.
Where's Secretary of Defense?
Remember how bad Georgia's pass defense has been? It was worse than that Saturday. Here is something I don't understand:
When the Bulldogs pass, we send out one receiver and he goes down about six yards and then cuts toward the sideline with seven defenders around him.
When the teams pass against us, they send out 14 guys and then go all over the field and stand there while the quarterback picks out who he wants to throw the ball to.
Why is that?
Many left here Saturday with malice in their hearts toward the Georgia coaching staff.
"Where is our defense?" a man wanted to know.
"It's on the sidelines in Statesboro," said another, referring, of course, to the long-departed Erk Russell, Georgia's former secretary of defense.
"And where was our great rushing attack?" was another question.
"It's simple," came an explanation. "South Carolina put nine men on the line and dared us to pass. Georgia is to passing what Moammar Gadhafi is to world peace."
Clemson Win Doesn't Help
Even Tech getting beat by Clemson didn't help.
"How can Clemson winning anything make you feel better?" a fan asked.
And now, for the worst part of it all.
How we ran out of beer I'll never know. I've been going to football games for three decades, and one thing that's never happened to me is when I got back to the truck, we were out of beer.
"I thought you were going to put some more beer in the ice chest," I said to my companion.
"I was in charge of the chicken. You were supposed to get the beer," he said.
What we did was shameful, but it had to be done. We sent our women over to a group of South Carolina fans to beg. They came back with a six-pack.
Somewhere eastbound out on Interstate 20 as we drove home - heads down, backs hurting - a fellow in the back seat put it all into perspective:
"Where was Gilbert," he asked, "when we needed him?"
Copyright 1988 The Atlanta Journal and The Atlanta Constitution
